Thursday, June 20, 2013

Like a watch hand, that never ceases/
Like the pulse of a hand inspiring a thesis/
The writing releases/ Amends through tunnels, roadblocks and endless ends/
New beginnings paramount to fresh fronts, new trends and scents/
Traces of new strengths, on a daily basis/
Trading places, a new grace in every trip through all the spaces/
Dream of a time-ship travelling to all the races, and break it down into pieces
of bizzare/ Memories that pass us by like a shooting star/
Just try and you will get far, because/
All your thoughts and every story/ Every able wish leads to a, century of glory/ Keep on storing, the energy to keep on soaring/
Defeat the boring, and explain your dreams/
Soul passag-es, heart chapters and the moody themes/
Adage-this, capture the means/To break them down into pieces of bizzare/
Memories that pass us by like a shooting star/
Just try, and you will get far.

Just try, and you will get far.

You might not get very far in real terms, but you will learn something. And then you'll go far afterward. When you have the chance. So that's what I mean. Don't worry about it too much.

And, endless happiness...

(...stems from endless gratitude.)

Share it with others. Those who don't have it or can't get it by themselves. Lift
others up with you as you go along the way; the small signpost we set up becomes a
big road map for them.

Tuesday, June 04, 2013

The humdrum of the lounge fills the ears as the world around makes it way, not bothering about -
though at the same time caring enough not to interrupt - the
caressing of auditory signals against the earlobe that want to swim
into the mind and pronounce themselves distinct within it. As the consciousness fades into the semi-sphere of wake and vision recedes from the front eyes, the
smooth unbroken fabric of the blue or red-dyed chair relaxes a bit more under,
taking the shape of the posterior and hoping to seduce another few
hours’ sleep from someone it is happy is only half the average
weight.

But in another galaxy not far away, the u-boats of the voiceful opposition
reach the shores of mental comprehension and various units of
intelligence disembark in order to mount an offensive against the
motor neurons of relaxation in their quest to capture the hill of
attention and wave the flag of logic. After an endless - which is
defined by science as a couple of minutes - battery assault combining
weapons of chemical stimulation and analogue sensory bombardment, the
invading forces manage to overrun the field of thought and flip the
lever of activity from dormant to operational, and so are granted
autonomy of the moment by way of waking up into the world once more
and lifting a sleepy eyelid at the airport clock.

After an eternal - which is defined by
science as a nanosecond - jolt no further persuasion is required when
you realize the coma of pleasure has extended hours beyond its
original timeframe and you have shifted, rather involuntarily, into a
different time zone in the exact same location. Shifting gears
manually in the body command center, suddenly the left and right
extensions of the body – which science prefers to call hands and
legs – are mobilised in an incredible feat of power, with the hands
and legs protruding outward and rotating upward in conjunction with
other internal structure beams. As the earth readies to be tested
with a rapidly increasing amount of weight, the chair sighs,
reversing the position of fabric from sagging to being lifted by the
air that floats between the spaces in the foam. The next one will be
a biggie.

As shoe soles squeak on marble you
realise you've overslept after work.

The airport chair next to the coffee
machine sits three floors above the runway below where four wheels
rolling on the small side-road hoist the body and soul of a staff
shuttle bus that chugs along to the driving symmetry of the airport
staff. The bus coughs slightly as the axle changes the direction of
the vehicle to include a curbside carstop in the roster - which is defined by management as a schedule - of locations
it will have to pay a visit to. Returning to the third floor, the
visual gaze flinches in the style of demured alertness, and so the
audio inlets on either side of the face compensate for the delay in
receiving the “show and tell” of the world.

You realise the soft and
pleasant-to-hear woman's voice announcing the final call of a flight
is what has been trying to enter your mind ever since you slumped
across that chair. The politeness is unmistakeable as her voice, like
a chocolate bar to the tongue, encourages travellers to make haste
toward their departing swoops in the air like a spiritual leader
calls toward the embellishment of religion and practice of prayer.
The matter is brought to a satisfactory end of play and you swing
your bag across your shoulders, flat-footing towards your share of
the city's four walled clearances of indulgence, comprehending she
was just trying to tell you nicely - which is defined by humanity as kindness - not to miss your own final call
for the walk back home.